


Thief

by SunflowerSupreme



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, celeborn and celegorm are both blondes and have similar names okay?, shit happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 03:08:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18002651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: After years of solitude, Maglor is starving and hallucinating.





	Thief

_Look at you, Kanafinwe_ , said his father’s harsh voice in his mind, _the last son of Feanor, reduced to petty thievery_.

_No better than Melkoro_ , agreed Curufin, ever the parrot of their father’s words.

Maglor pulled his hands through his dark hair in frustration, whining aloud, “Shut up! I have not eaten this week, and I see none of you doing anything to help it.”

_You’re too noisy to be a thief_ , scolded Celegorm. _Thieves must be like hunters, silent and blending in with their surroundings. You’re making enough noise to wake an orc pack._

“Shut up!”

_Go on. There’s no shame if you must_ , came a quiet voice, his least favorite one to hear. Maedhros always sounded the most disappointed, never angry, never raising his voice. Not even when Maglor raged at him for abandoning his last brother. Somehow, Maedhros’ permission made it far worse.

But despite all that, he needed to eat.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, but he knew it had been far too long. When the small group had set up camp beside the cave he called home, Maglor had seen it as a gift.

But sneaking into the camp proved to be more difficult than he’d thought. He sat in the entrance to his cave, watching them for hours and debating with himself on the best way to get inside. His brothers had offered no help, leaving him to devise a plan all by himself.

So when he’d seen the wagon at the edge of the camp, well out of the ring of firelight, he’d headed toward it.

As Celegorm had so helpfully pointed out, he was hardly quiet, but thankfully the elves in the camp hadn’t been expecting trouble, and their security was lax at best. It was far too easy to merely walk up to the wagon and dig through one of the crates.

He didn’t even notice the person walk up behind him.

* * *

 He’d been aware that someone had been prowling around in the woods, but he hadn’t expected this.

Celeborn recognized him the moment he saw Maglor Feanorian. Even with ragged clothes and a too-thin frame, he was still every bit the prince he had once been.

But Maglor didn’t seem to recognize him.

He’d considered leaving the other, letting him steal whatever it was he wanted and then disappear off into the night. But curiosity had drawn him closer. Close enough that Maglor should have noticed, but he didn’t.

The Feanorian remained unaware of Celeborn until the other was right beside him, and then he just glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and muttered, “Not now Celegorm.”

For a long moment, he was almost able to convince himself that the other had said Celeborn, not Celegorm, but no, he knew he hadn’t misheard the other.

“Maglor-”

“I am not listening to you anymore.” Maglor’s face was flushed red, but his eyes were unfocused. Fever? Dehydration? Celeborn wasn’t sure (and he wasn’t sure why he cared). Even if Maglor was barely able to open the buckles on the bag he was attempting to rob, he was still a killer, Celeborn reminded himself sternly.

_He also raised your son in law_ , said another voice in his head. It sounded far too much like his daughter for comfort, and although he knew she wasn’t communicating across distances as she occasionally did, it still left him with a pang of guilt.

“Let me help you.” He opened the bag, unhooking the buckles, and offered Maglor a piece of dried meat. The starving elf thanked his deceased brother and gulped it down.

Celeborn sighed, placing a hand on Maglor’s forehead. The other swatted him away, but not before he was able to confirm that he wasn’t feverish. A small victory.

Still unsure why he was doing what he was doing, Celeborn lifted himself into the wagon, rummaging through the boxes until he’d procured a fresh change of clothing for Maglor.

He threw them out of the wagon where they landed on Maglor’s head, then Celeborn swung himself out.

“I’m not stealing clothes,” Maglor said, shaking his head firmly. “I’ve stolen enough already.”

“It’s not stealing if they’re mine to give-”

“Your’s to-” Maglor trailed off, his confused mind seeming to have difficulty following Celeborn’s statements. Then he seemed to create a narrative he was content with and murmured, “Yes, yours. We- where are we?”

“Traveling to visit relatives.” It was true enough. Celeborn had been on the road, visiting with Cirdan in Lindon, and was currently on his way back to Lothlorien where Galadriel had elected to remain with their daughter.

Maglor seemed to buy the lie, nodding and pulling at his shirt, no doubt deciding to change into the far cleaner and warmer clothes Celeborn had offered him. “Yes, Timo. Timo was just-” he turned, looking behind him at the woods, as though expecting his elder brother to appear at any moment.

“He’ll be here soon,” he said, reasoning that it wasn’t exactly a lie. If Maglor wasn’t careful, he was going to be reuniting with all his brothers very soon.

As the other’s shirt fell away, Celeborn winced at what he saw. He’d been expecting scars - Maglor hadn’t led an easy or peaceful life, even before his self imposed exile - but he still found himself startled by how thin the other was. His mind was made up, he wasn’t going to let Maglor just wander off again in that state.

Helping Maglor into the shirt, not trusting the minstrel to manage it himself, he leaned farther into his lie. “You were separated from us, I stayed to look for you. The others are just ahead.”

“Yes. I did, didn’t I?”

“Hmm. You need to drink.” Celeborn lifted the waterskin from his belt and offered it to Maglor, who took it willingly.

As much as he was determined to help him, he also wasn’t about to take the elf back into his camp. He didn’t have an exact count off the top of his head, but he knew for a fact he wasn’t the only survivor of a kinslaying that was present.

Instead, he wrapped an arm around Maglor, grabbed a bag of supplies, and followed the elf’s footsteps back to where he’d come from.

He wasn’t surprised to find that Maglor’s tracks led back to a cave, but the fact that he’d clearly been there for a long time did. The last they’d heard, Maglor had been living on the shore, not in a dank cave in the woods. But he pushed his questions aside and helped Maglor to sit down.

“I hope I didn’t worry anyone,” Maglor said after a moment, tapping his foot against the ground. Celeborn sat a pair of boots in front of him, waiting for the other to put them on.

“We knew you could handle yourself.”

“But I didn’t,” Maglor said suddenly, thrusting his hand in front of Celeborn’s nose. “I- I burned myself on- I don’t remember what I burned myself on.”

He wasn’t prepared for that. Maglor’s hand, burned by the Silmaril, caused Celeborn to pull back in alarm. The other had wrapped bandages around it, but they did little to hide the smell of charred flesh. Fingers shaking, Celeborn couldn’t help but unwrap the bandages, baring the wound.

It could have been burned yesterday. There no no hint in his wound that it was several thousand years old, and he had no doubt that Maglor must be in great pain.

“A fire,” Celeborn lied, feeling slightly ill. “You burned your hand in a fire.” Maglor seemed to believe him.

A part of him wanted to treat it - seeing anyone in that much pain was horrific - but he had no doubt it wouldn’t make any difference. Instead, Celeborn pulled out fresh bandages and rewrapped the wound. “It will be better soon,” he said. Another lie, but it seemed kinder than the truth.

He offered Maglor more water which the other drank greedily and without comment. “This is for you,” Celeborn said, pushing the bag toward Maglor. “It has food and water.”

Maglor blinked at him. “I- I have to ride ahead,” Celeborn lied. “You’ll have to catch up with us.”

His men would be looking for him soon anyway. They hadn’t been stopping for the night, only for a short rest. He’d been gone far too long already. If he kept telling himself that Maglor would be fine, perhaps he’d believe it.

Maglor watched him walk away, then he softly said, “I’m not going with you.”

He turned, looking back over his shoulder at Maglor, one eyebrow raised.

Maglor met his gaze with far clearer eyes than when he’d found him. “You’re not Celegorm,” he said after a moment. “I know that. I don’t know who you are. But you’re not my brother.” His face twisted. “My brothers are dead. I’m not going with you.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest it,” he lied.


End file.
